At 3 am
I have to wonder
Whether these are butterflies or bats in my stomach,
Keeping me awake,
The night is silent but my mind is racing.
All I wanted was to be
alone.

At 3 am
I have to wonder
Whether these thoughts that chew away at my brain,
Keeping me awake,
Are self destructive or self protective.
All I wanted was to be
alone.

At 3 am
I have to wonder
Whether these violent emotions, wildly swinging,
Keeping me awake,
Are out of my control or within my means.
All I wanted was to be
alone.


...

At 4 am
I have to wonder
Whether the thought of me
Kept you awake
And how I would give anything to be beside you
And not
alone.

I appreciate it babe.

Oh you're worried?

I appreciate it.

I should stop drinking?

I appreciate the suggestion.

But I just don't care.
I don't care. I don't care at all. I don't ******* care. You can go now.
Get the **** out of here.

Unless..

You have more *****..?Will you get me more?We can talk then! I promise. You're the best. You're my favourite girl, you know that?
I love you so much.

I appreciate it babe.

I hope that when you think of me
It's a deep ache.
A gut wrenching sickness that ***** up in your throat.
An anxiousness that will never leave.
I can still smell the beer on your breath
and
I can still feel the dirt under your fingernails.
I hope you rot.

The dog is dead.

But we drag it by it's leash anyway,
down by the water,
through the park
and finally home,
to our bed.

The dog is dead.

But we pour our affections into it's fur.
We throw
our words,
our promises,
our love
at it, waiting for  it's body to grow warm with life once again.

The dog is dead.

But only once it's started decaying, rotting, bloating
will we be
okay enough to bury it,
okay enough to wipe the dirt off our hands,
okay enough to walk away.


* I wrote this to try to express my feelings regarding a dieing relationship of mine. I didn't actually **** a pup. Pup love <3

I am the Grave Digger.
Grave-maker.
The end is nigh.

Work the plot
til it's ******.
Work the dirt
with my pickax.

This is just another day for me. Another dime. Another dead.

It's important to remember that
when all your tears have been shed
and you've had all the laughs
life gifted you with,
we are just
bone
and
flesh.

I am the Grave Digger.
Grave-maker.
Your end is nigh.

Strained neck.
Belly full of ***.
With a pat on my ***,
you roll over and fall asleep.

*******.

I'll drink this
and you'll smoke that.
I'll stare
as you stroke the cat.

"What's worse,"
you inquire,
"to love or be loved
by a liar?"

Scratch my head,
chew my hair.
"Why do you
even care?"

Eyes spark,
you lean in close
"Your opinion matters
the most."

And with that,
you run off to bed.
I follow,
still scratching my head.